trying.â
âIâm sorry.â Here I was, back from surviving an air crash and being stranded on a desert island, and I was already the one doing the comforting.
âIs â¦?â I glanced around.
âWhat, sweetie?â
âIs Rupert here?â
My parents exchanged a brief look, similar to ones theyâd done when I opened a hoped-for Christmas present. âHe did ask to but we were the only ones allowed here. Sorry, darling.â
Relief careened through me, and that caused shock too. I covered it by giving my mother a meek smile. âI understand.â
âHeâs been calling and calling. Itâll be something of a relief that you can talk to him now. Itâs been a little insistent. You will â¦?â
âWhat?â
âYou will sort it out with him soon, wonât you? Poor boy, you have run him a merry dance, Callie.â
âMum, not now.â
My mother swallowed and held my arm. âNo, sorry, darling, youâre right.â She pulled me in for another hug, which I gratefully returned. I was used to my parentsâ devotion to my ex. I wondered how much of my decision to go back to him stemmed from them.
âCome on then, Callie. Letâs take you home.â I felt my fatherâs guiding hand on my elbow. I looked over for Paul. He glanced up at me.
âJust a moment.â
As I walked towards him, he stood up.
âIâm off then,â I said, not sure what to do with my hands.
âRight.â
âThanks for ⦠you know, saving my life and all that.â
âYeah, well, thanks for ⦠all that. Here. My number. Iâd like you to ring me sometime. Iâd like that a lot.â He handed me a slip of paper. I took it with a sigh.
âPaul â¦â
There was a silence. I could feel the watery grey eyes of his father on me. Eventually, Paul held out his hand. âBye then, Callie.â
I wanted to hold him, hug him, kiss him. But I just took his hand and shook it as if weâd concluded a business deal. âBye, Paul.â
And then I left in the bustle of my parents and my CISD officer.
Nine
The counsellor â Anna, this time â would be staying over for a few days until she was satisfied I wasnât going to âdo something sillyâ, as my mother put it. What? Dress up as Dolly Parton and go strutting down the High Street singing â9 to 5â? No, not that kind of silly, my mother tutted. My father smiled softly, all the while looking out of the window.
I was feeling at home already.
It was wonderful to lie in my old bed, wonderful to feel the gentle nuzzle of the dogâs head in my lap, wonderful to hear the familiar chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall. I really had survived, and Iâd longed for it. But after my first nightâs sleep, I awoke restless already. Something was missing. I knew what it was â or rather, who it was â but wouldnât allow myself to admit it.
Just after eight, my phone rang. I picked it up, half hoping it was Paul, but then, how could it be? Heâd given me his number, I hadnât given him mine. I saw the display: Rupert.
I waited to feel excited when he rang, the way I did at university. I didnât. I fixed my face into a smile before I pressed âacceptâ, hoping that the false happiness would spread to my voice.
âHello!â I said, a little over-enthusiastically.
âCallie, oh God, Callie, thank God youâre back.â
I laughed brightly. âYup.â
âI just ⦠God, I canât tell you what hell I was in those few days.â
âIt must have been very awful. Worse for the families of those who didnât make it.â A lurch took hold of my stomach. Theyâd warned me about survivorâs guilt. So far, my confusion over Paul had helped dissipate it.
âBut youâre back. Iâve got you back.â
I didnât